The dining hall felt so inexplicably cold, so unfamiliar, as if it was merely a half-hearted reconstruction of this once so beloved place. The entire house felt like a doll-house that couldn't quite capture the essence of his memories. It was so cold, somewhere, sometime having lost the warm core of a home.
The large, intricately decorated dining table, was set up with their finest cutlery, once only reserved for christmas dinner. Empty where he could remember their baked cakes and cookies filling the room with the smell of chocolate and cinnamon.
The wooden walls, once the birthplace of fantastical stories, now nothing more than a puppet theater. An invitation, no, an order, to once again put on the mask they handed to him.
Once more, he was supposed to play their puppet. He was to dance nicely among his strings and open his mouth only when the Kaiser wished it. Just like a dog that barks when ordered. Just like they thought he'd always do for them.
And for once, forever, they were wrong. He would not do that. He would never do that again.
Not for the people that had left him to sit there, waiting for them, alone, still dressed in his dirty uniform that he had refused to take off. Why should he? That was part of the Kaiser's gift, after all. He wanted France? Here it was! He brought mud straight from the gorgeous french countryside mixed only with blood from the very best german soldiers.
Surely, the Kaiser would appreciate it, like he appreciated being home for Christmas. How could he not love it? There's even some iron left in his body, a souvenir if you will.
Ludwig sat there, everything, his face, body and hair still caked in blood. Who's he isn't too sure, but some of it was surely his, some of his friends…The blood of the friends he had prayed for, day and night.
He finally had made friends. Could you believe it? He made friends! People that laughed and cried alongside him, people that had been his family for the last four years… Had been. They were dead. Every single one of them was fucking dead. Their laugh, now gone forever, never to be heard again, etched deeply into his memory.
Dead…because of what? Because of who?
Was it because the death of one fucking pig with a crown, was more important than their life? Or was it because of his own selfish need for power? His own? His Kaisers? They wanted that grand entry. Did he? An opportunity to showcase what he'd been trained for, for years and years? A grand entry onto the world stage like the kaiser dreamed of?
A grand entry it was wasn't it? They were all dead. Everyone was fucking dead. Because of one assasination, everyone was dead.
And he was left behind with their blood on him as the last reminder of their existence. Left to face the very people he had run away from, alone. Because his friends were fucking dead. All because of one fucking pig. All because of him.
But isn't this what they, those… monarchs, wanted him to be? A nation forged out of blood, sweat and tears. Of the oh so glorious efforts of their oh so brilliant minds. Standing alone, on top of all that dared to come in his way? A nation that crawled from Germanias pussy ready to fight God himself, born to be undefeatable.
Ludwig shook his head. The first movement he made since the servants had sat him down in that chair. His hand reached up to rake through his tousled hair as his quiet chuckle momentarily filled the still empty room.
Oh how undefeatable he was! Gave everything and still had to crawl back to his daddy, begging his own Kaiser to please, pretty please, end this fucking war. Begging the oh so brilliant generals to come up with something, anything to stop his friends from dying. Begging like a dog, the people that rather invited him to a nice dinner, to please put away their pride for once. Only once. Again and again, only to fall on deaf ears.
And they had told him monarchs cared! Pah! Monarchs are the most careless class of people! They deserved to drown in the endless shithole that were the trenches, face down, helpless after being shot in the spine.
But they were spared. Of course they were. They were the oh so great leaders of the oh so glorious German fucking Kaisereich.
With a loud, ringing screech, the large, ornamented door opened and the Kaiser, followed, of course, by his loyal donkeys, stepped into the room. Each one of them dressed in their pristine, freshly pressed uniforms. Not a wrinkle in sight. At the very front, like always, strutted his father.
His father.
Ludwigs eyes narrowed.
Prussia. The nation of Prussia was walking next to his Kaiser. The Kaiser of Germany. Talking to him, with his usual better than thou expression on his face, not even looking at him.
Prussia was walking next to his generals, the people that were supposed to listen to him! Not fucking Prussia.
He glared at them.
And then they turned, all the Generals and the Kaiser himself turned towards him. They looked at him. Oh, and how they all looked at him. At their oh so precious German Kaiserreich.
How much he wanted to puke when saying that name. How much he wanted to spit it in the face.
At their oh so convenient invention. Their little knight on the chessboard. Sitting there, with mud on his face, his clothes in disarray, getting blood and mud all over the expensive carpet.
Ludwig couldn't help but allow himself to smirk. How their expressions twisted, from their usual thinly veiled arrogance, to a twisted expression of disgust and fury.
Why the sudden shift? Could they not handle what their nation had become? Why look so disgusted, when all he was, was a result of their actions. A mirror of their people. Nothing more nothing less.
Quietly they seated themselves on the expensive, new upholstery. To absolutely no one's surprise, they could afford to open the vaults for that, but not an effective supply chain to the front.
They sat their fat little asses on the cushy new upholstery and looked, stared, gawked at him while wrinkling their fine little noses.
Silence swept the room, as they looked at him disapprovingly. Like he was mocking them with his mere presence. Doesn't matter. It was good. Good. Look at him. Please look at him. See. For once, see what is going on. See what the entirety of German youth is going down for. See what the conditions are at the front.
He kept looking at them even as the door opened once more and the servant entered, stacks and stacks of food entering with them, slowly filling the desk, until not a single space was left.
Eventually, he dared himself to look down. The table was filled to the brim with everything he could have only dreamt of at the front, even at the support lines, everywhere else but here, you could only dream of this. Kartoffelsalat, Schweinshaxen, Spätzle, Leberwurst, Bratkartoffeln, and a huge, steaming pot of Königsberger Klöpse in the middle.
Ludwig looked up from the roasted chicken they sat down in front of him, choking down the saliva filling his mouth. He looked around the room. At all those fat Generals and the even fatter Kaiser, with their rosy cheeks, looking like newborns with mustaches and back into his mind, at the gaunt faces sitting next to him waiting for the whistle. How dare they even look at food let alone shove it down their oily throats while he had to feast upon horse carcasses and rob french farmers of their last chicken to survive!
His eyes went along the long line of Generals, staring at each of them until they looked away, ashamed of what he had become. Some dared to stare back as if this was his fault. As if he is the reason for their failure. He had given everything. Everything, he had to give. His body, his friends, his life. Everything.
What had they given? Their time? Their pride? What minimal of a prize to pay for a war started by their hands. By their signature.
He went down the line, as if it were an execution, until his eyes reached his father. Sitting right next to the Kaiser at the far end of the table, staring at him.
Their eyes locked together like the trust fall of an eagle, neither willing to pull away.
His ruby eyes bore into him with an expression he had never seen before. It wasn't disgust, nor was it one of blame. He just looked at him. And he looked right back, falling into the red abyss.
What could his father possibly be thinking about? Was he mad at him? Would he yell, once they were left alone? Would he, Ludwig, just stand there and take it, like he always had? No, he told himself, this time he'd yell right back!
He kept his eyes locked to his father's, daring him to a battle. He would not be the first to look away. He wasn't scared. Not anymore.
After what felt like forever, his father was the first one to tear away his gaze, as the sound of a spoon against newly polished glass called for his attention.
The Kaiser wanted to speak. And speaking he did,"Alright, now that we're all gathered here, let's start with the inevitable," he said looking pointily at Ludwig. A gaze that was followed by all those that sat at the table. "We have to look evil in the eye, we have to speak about the uncomfortable reality" he said, still holding eye contact with Ludwig, like this was his fault. Like he was the one that should beg for forgiveness.
Ludwig couldn't stop himself from snorting. A sound that garnered him even the attention of the hairs on their backs.
But how could he not laugh? Comfortable? Comfort? That was their concern right now? Comfort?
The war was falling down on them, like a crumbling building they hadn't even bothered to build the foundation for, and their concern was comfort? What should he do? Provide them a comfy seat and a cold beer? Maybe even a blanket so they could feel comfort while watching the slaughter of his people?
He should've shot them instead of France. That would've probably saved the damn war, rather than their stupid fucking orders.
"Right…" continued the Kaiser, trying to ignore his outburst," We have not seen a victory since July this year, the triple entente have continuously crossed our plans, so I've called all of you here to discuss how we're going to turn this around."
Wait. Turn this around? As in continue? Continue? They've lost so many already. And they still wanted to continue?
Ludwig looked around the room in disbelief. That couldn't possibly be their plan. It was November. Winter was just around the corner. He can't do another winter. His people won't survive another winter. They can't do that!
"What is there to turn around? Make peace, for God's sake!" said von Baden, sounding exhausted.
"Are you insane! We can't just give up like that!" called out Ludendorff, slamming his fork down.
"Can't just? We have to!" said von Baden, raising his voice to be heard over the resistance of the other high command. "Do none of you hear our citizens?"
"No!" yelled one of the generals, slamming his fist down on the table, "We have to think about Germany's honor!"
His honor? Germany thought. He had lost his honor when he agreed to become a monarchy. When he had let those monkeys into office.
He doesn't care about honor right now. He wanted out of this war. Out of the hundreds of deaths. Out of this fucking hunger.
Once again he looked towards Prussia who was sitting unnaturally quiet beside the Kaiser. Every other time he had been right in there arguing along with all the generals about Germany's future. But now, he was looking right back at him, the same expression on his face as before.
"WE CAN'T GIVE THE FRENCH WHAT THEY WANT!" someone yelled.
Is this what this was about? Not giving France what he wants?
France already got what he wanted. His fields were well fertilized with german blood. He was in shreds. There was nothing France hadn't got already.
Why was he even here? Was this what they had dragged him out of the trench for?
They were discussing whether or not to continue letting his people die and they wanted him to hear it. That is why he had to leave his people behind? To witness their oh so caring monarchs discuss their downfall?
Why was his dad not doing anything? Did he seriously agree with them?!
"We don't know that, von Baden." said the Kaiser, suddenly gaining Ludwig's attention.
"Yeah but look at him! Does that look like a winning nation to you!?" yelled von Baden, gesturing towards him. "We need peace."
Look at him? What was he? A piece of fucking evidence? Were his people on fucking trial?
Why was he even surprised? Of course they would want him back to ogle and judge, they can't possibly do that with the oh so perfect Prussia now can they?
"It's not that bad! Right, Germany?" called the Kaiser. For the first time addressing his own fucking nation. "Tell him it's not that bad."
Oh? They remembered that he was there, how nice. And they even gave him a script to follow. How considerate of them! Too bad he wasn't going to follow it. Not anymore. "It is." He said pointedly, "It is that fucking bad." looking around he rested his arms onto the table, revealing the bandages under his torn uniform sleeves. They wanted to see him? Fine. See everything. "You don't even-" he started to say but was cut off.
"Don't swear, it's not proper, you know that." admonished the Kaiser, rolling his eyes "And take your elbows off the table!" he added before turning back to the assembly of Generals, "So what, if it's that bad? We have been through worse. The fact that he could walk all the way here only shows the resilience of the German forces!"
A loud round of agreeing voices fell out of the stuffed mouths of the generals.
How dare they cut him off? How dare they ignore him? Him! Their fucking nation! How fucking dare they! What was he? A child? No! He was them. He was all of them and more. So much more.
"YOU don't even know what it's like over there! Do you, Willhelm?" He yelled, standing up from his chair and slamming his hands on the table, regaining their attention in a heartbeat. "Of course, you don't! Who could expect their fucking leader to care enough to actually show up to the war he agreed to! All you lot want is to collect your fucking medals and to adorn yourself with the glory of battles won by the people you sent out to fucking die!"
They were quiet. Eyes in large in shock and fury. So, all eyes on him. Fine. Let's start the show. "And you. You sit here in cushy chairs, stuffing your face full of food while your soldiers are starving out there! You- I can't fucking believe- You fucks can't even sent a fucking massage to Mexico without getting caught, and Austria- Austria and Hungary are about as useful as a herd of disoriented ducks! And you expect me to somehow turn this shit around? How in the world-, please explain to me, how in the world I was supposed to pull this off?"
"You're out of line, Germany!" someone warned, from the sidelines.
"I'm out of line?" he said, shaking his head in disbelief "out of line, you say? I'M OUT OF LINE FOR DEFENDING MY PEOPLE FROM YOUR SENSELESS FUCKING ORDERS?"
"Germany, calm down, yelling won't get you anywhere." someone else said" We know this is hard for you to understand-"
"Yes, it's not ideal what's going on right now, we know this... But you also need to understand that you just don't understand how all of this works yet. Calm down and let us work."
"CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN? YOU-! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO DIES OVER THERE DO YOU? SEE! YOU CAN'T EVEN PRETEND TO CARE!" he yelled before taking a sharp breath," but of course you don't. You don't need to after all. Your sons are all safe and sound locked away in some fucking university aren't they?" he took a breath, chuckling quietly more to himself but loud enough for them to hear "All nicely cooped up, becoming doctors and shit while everyone else is sent out to face the knife. What great leaders you are! Your sons are safe, so why care about the stupid common folk!
" Germany-, that's just a lie. We do care and you know that." The Kaiser said, shaking his head disapprovingly at him,"Come on we get that this is really hard for you but don't lie. We taught you better than that."
"Oh, right, sorry." Ludwig said sarcastically, "of course they're in the military, how could I forget! I'm so sorry. On the most important fronts as well! Keeping track of the amount of toilet paper delivered to the headquarters is so unbelievably important. We don't want our dear Kaiser to have to ration! No seriously!" he said, holding up a hand before he could be interrupted" I actually wrote with one of them." looking at one of the Generals, he continued "don't worry, your son won't need to pain his delicate fingers in answering Reinmanns request anymore. He's fucking dead, congratulations."
"Germany, quiet!" the Kaiser yelled, gaining his attention, "Just because you chose to run away into the trenches isn't an excuse to forget your manners! We are trying to keep this ship afloat! We…" he said while gesturing towards the generals that were still stuffing their mouths," are trying to fix this-"
"Fix this? With what? More dead people? What will that fix?" he said, letting his confusion shine to the surface, before he quickly painted it over with a comedic expression of realisation" ... Oh, right! Less weight! I get it now!" he stood up on his chair, like he had when he could still drink and laugh with his friends, yelling out as if he were in a broadcast "LISTEN! THE BRILLIANT KAISER HAS FOUND A SOLUTION! We're going to kill our soldiers ourselves! Throw some of them into the water to lose weight and cramp some of them into the leak! That'll fix everything! They'll soften the blow from the french! They're going to stop the cannon fire! BUT WHAT OF THE POOR MOTHERS! You say? Oh we'll collect their tears and fill our drinks with them, to keep us hydrated-"
" For fucks sake what is he talking about?" someone whispered.
"Get him out of here! He's fucking drunk!" someone yelled.
"I WISH I WAS!." answered Ludwig before continuing, ignoring the protest of the generals in the room. "You don't know what it's like," he said stepping down from the chair, "sitting in those fucking hellholes trapped for days. Days not knowing what is going to happen. If they will attack or if it's going to be you. None of you know what it's like being shot upon, day in and day out. You weren't there to hear their screams. You couldn't hear them beg for their mothers. You didn't hear those fucking planes howling above you, hear them and beg, beg that those are german planes for once and not french. That the smell is the corpse next to you and not another gas attack. Beg to a deaf God to please spare your friends, to spare you. That you- to just let us drink together one last time. To please, just one last time, let you see the fucking morning. To please just… to just… fucking live" Ludwig stopped, feeling something wet flow down his cheeks.
Furiously he wiped them away. "You weren't there…" he tried to continue his voice thick with tears that waited to fall, "You didn't see them. You didn't see Rasmus get fucking shot. He didn't look at you while his brain flowed out of his fucking head. I couldn't… Emil. You weren't there when that monster came. You.. didn't see Emil's head explode when that… thing drove over him. You didn't hear him scream." again he needed to stop to wipe his face, annoyed at how hiccups destroyed his sentences.
"The best fucking people, i've ever met" he started, furiously pulling out the cross gifted to him by Moritz, shoving it towards them with every word he spoke," died. Died. Do you even know what that means? Death? Or have you paid death too? To spare you? Moritz, fucking wasn't. He could never see his fucking daughter. Emil wasn't. You don't know what that's like. Do you? To see your best friends lose their lives. See how their eyes… they lost their lives for you!" he said with disdain dripping through every word," You! Of all people! You! And you don't even care!-"
"Listen!" said the Kaiser, cutting him off once more, "I'm sorry that you little friends had to die, and I'm sorry for your Erick but that's the nature of war! People die! That's what happens! They knew that when they signed up! So stop your little tantrum-"
"TANTRUM?!" Ludwig yelled, his hands hitting the table "YOU- YOU FUCKING IMBACILE! YOU FUCKING TRAITOR! HOW DARE YOU BLAME THEM! HOW DARE YOU FUCKING SIT THERE IN YOU LITTLE FUCKING THROWN AND BLAME THEM! YOU KILLED THEM! YOU KILLED THEM! YOUR FUCKING IDIOTIC DECISIONS KILLED THEM!"
"SHUT UP!" yelled the Kaiser and before Ludwig could continue, he turned towards Prussia saying loudly for everyone to hear. "Get your son under control, right now! Get him out!" he took a breath, "I don't think he's in the best of mind right now."
Without a second of hesitation, Prussia stood up and made his way over to his son, who looked at him in disbelief.
"Not in my right mind?" he said, getting quieter with each word he spoke" That's what you call me telling you what's going on? Not in my right mind? W-what was I supposed to tell you?" he said, letting out a small exhausted laugh, "I- O-Oh, you great all knowing Kaiser, this had been the best war anyone has ever fought! The French didn't see us coming! We're in Paris! Do you want to come eat a croissant with me?" he whispered, voice breaking bit by bit, a burning sense of betrayal creeping up within him.
The Kaiser didn't answer him, just like all the other Generals. No one was looking at him anymore. As if he was a patient acting up in a psych ward. Perhaps they were going to send him to one. Not in his right mind.
He could see some of them struggling not to look at him, their faces contorted with something like worry, perhaps even fucking pity. A look you'd might give to a beggar on the street.
Ludwig muted, staring in disbelief at his Generals, at his Kaiser, all of whom didn't look at him, didn't talk to him. His eyes, still filled to the brim with tears, stared at them, looking for anyone still willing to look at him.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. His father's hand. It grabbed his shoulder so goddamn gently. As if he were made out of porcelain. As if he were too fragile to- just handle.
He didn't react, he just continued staring at his Generals, the people that were supposed to lead him, help his people, all ignore him, like a stupid child. A tantrum throwing child.
Slowly Prussia led Germany out of the deathly quiet dining hall, leading his unresponsive son out into the hallway. His face was a mask of neutrality, not a single feature betraying his internal struggle.
Offering the high command inside an apologetic look, he closed the door behind himself and Ludwig. He sighed, closing his eyes tightly, before tightening his hold on Ludwig. He led him down the hallway and up the grand staircase, all in complete silence. He couldn't trust himself to open his mouth, not right now.
After what felt like forever, he opened the door to Germany's room and ushered him inside. He looked around the hallway making sure no one was in earshot of them before he followed.
The door clicked shut behind him and he turned to face his son. He could not move. He was right there. In front of him. Just- there. After four years. Four fucking years.
Ludwig was facing away from him, still standinding in the same spot to which he had shoved him. His shoulders were so unbelievably tense, his hands were tightened into fists, as if he had to fight someone.
His son stood there in front of him, in a dirty and torn uniform that was too big for him. He had seen the bandages hidden beneath, he could see his bruised skin beneath all that dirt that covered him.
He paused looking away, taking a deep breath. Why he was suddenly so emotional, he couldn't explain. He was Prussia. He wasn't emotional. But goddamn, this was his baby. His son. Covered in dirt and blood. His otherwise gorgeous golden hair was brown. Brown from the dried blood. And his skin. His skin, it was so ashen.
His son wasn't supposed to look like that. He was supposed to stand there with his rosy, chubby cheeks, laughing at him, telling him about that new scientific discovery someone made somewhere in the world.
"You're… disappointed." Ludwig said suddenly. His voice strained from the tears he had fought back.
"What?" he said. Those were all the words he could muster up. Disappointed? In Ludwig?
Ludwig turned around, facing him. "You're disappointed," he said again, his arms tense at his sides, fists clenching even more.
Prussia looked at him. Was he taller now? God he looked so much older too! Look at his eyes. His eyes were covered by a layer of dust. The entirety of his son's face was covered in a layer of dust.
"No." was all he said, whispered really, "No. Never." he repeated in his husky voice, stepping closer still not fully believing what he saw. His hands reached up to touch his son's face. His cheeks were no longer the rosy pink they had once been, instead a sickly white.
He let his fingers run over his son's cheeks, relieving them of a thick layer of dirt. There he was, Prussia thought. He was somewhere below all that dirt. He only needed to dig him out. "I-" he tried, "God knows I-." he started again but cut off. "I- God- You're…Ugh"
Finally giving up he slowly reached down, letting his hands glide down the arms of his son, trying hard not to crack but- suddenly, his body moved forward pressing his son towards himself as tightly as he could without crushing him. "God, I could never." he finally said.
"I could never." he repeated as he lowered his head on top of his sons, holding him tighter, not caring about the blood that got onto him. He was back. That's all that mattered.
"Please tell me you're here." he said after a moment, threading his finger though Ludwigs matted hair. "God, please tell me you're actually here." He kissed the bloody head, still not fully believing it.
Ludwig, shocked, didn't say anything. His father was hugging him. Hugging him. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't mad! He was hugging him.
He slowly, cautiously wrapped his arms around his father. He was there. Really there. He could smell him again. He could hear his heart beating.
Just a moment ago the world had been encompassed in ice and suddenly the world was warming around him.
He was home. With his dad. With his dad who held him close.
So incredibly close. He could feel his heartbeat against his ear. And how indescribably good it felt. Just being held.
His fathers embrace was broken, only briefly, as Prussia once again took hold of his face, looking down on him with such worry in his eyes. "Where were you? I thought- I. God- What happened?" He asked looking all around his face,
Ludwig stared at his fathers eyes. He thought he would never be looked at like that again. He thought his father would hate him. After all he's done. Surely he would hate him.
His father, his warm hands still on his face, shook him lightly, regaining his attention. "What happened?." he asked, slipping a stray hair behind his ear.
He could only shake his head, slowly burying his face into the warm chest in front of him. He couldn't speak, he just couldn't.
And then, his fathers strong arms enveloped him back into safety, holding him close. Holding him close after everything. After everything he's done.
Just like that, he couldn't hold his tears back anymore. He just couldn't. He wanted them back. He just wanted to be with them again. He can't do this without them.
"Shh." Prussia hushed while holding his sopping son close, stroking his back and massaging his scalp. He held him close, deciding that in his mind he would never let him go again. Never. Not matter what happened, he would never leave him alone.
He felt how his son's sobs broke away pieces of his heart, and he held him closer, whispering "Shh. I'm here. Ludwig I'm here." and he always would be.
Ludwig started weeping even more, holding onto him as if he were the last thing stopping him from falling into the abyss. "Papa." he sobbed, pulling himself closer, he couldn't say more. He couldn't.
He would hate him. How could he not hate him? After all that he's done. How could he not hate him?
He shook his head, mumbling into his father's now soaked shirt, "Papa. Please, please don't hate me. Please. I only- It's all my fault. Don't hate me." like a prayer he looked up at his father.
Prussia only held him closer, saying nothing, listening to Germany's heartbroken rambling, "I want them back. Please, Papa, I want them back. I'm sorry."
All he could do was hold Ludwig close, stroking his hair, and repeat "I'm sorry. Shh, it's going to be alright. I'm here. It's not your fault." over and over trying to soothe this all encompassing pain.
After a while, Ludwig finally looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate, tears falling like rain from his eyes. "Papa. They're dead- They're gone-" he weeped.
Prussia let his hand untangle from his head, gliding it down to his cheek, whipping away the stray tear that remained, "It's not your fault. Ludwig. None of this is your fault.-"
"It's not fair, it's not fucking fair-" he started, his tears choking him, looking at his father, looking for something in his eyes that could catch him.
"Shh- It's ok." he cradled him, kissing his forehead, stroking away the hair from his face "Death is-. None of this is your fault. It takes whomever it wants. It's not your fault."
"I'm sorry." Germany whispered like a mantra saving him from all evil.
"There's nothing to be sorry for." He answered, wiping away the tears, "It's all going to be alright. Believe me, It's all going to be alright."
"I don't want everything to be alright. I want my friends back." Ludwig said, hiccupping
"I know-" he tried
"You don't. You can't. They're gone, Papa. They're fucking gone." he said, tears falling once again.
"Shh… it's alright."
"I just want them back..." He said through sniffles, still holding onto Prussia like a lifeline.
They stood there for a while, in silence as Germany cried, wept over his fallen friends, muttering over and over again, how sorry he was. How much he wanted them back. All while Prussia continued holding him close, letting him get it all out.
After some time, he quieted down and shortly after he looked up again, sniffling, his hands now wiping away the traces of his tears, "I'm being stupid. I shouldn't cry. I'm sorry."
Prussia let go a bit, "It's alright, even awesome nations like me cried sometimes." and pointing at Germany's heart, he added "your heart just needed to get rid of some access load, that's perfectly normal."
Ludwig stayed quiet after that, looking at his father's hand. He sniffed and hickupped but his tears had finally stopped falling.
"You alright?" Asked Prussia, stroking a strand out of his face.
"This is so fucked." Said Germany after a pause, rubbing his eyes, allowing himself to laugh lightly, trying to regain some of his composure. "All of this. This is all just so fucked. How- How was I supposed-. What the fuck was all of this?"
Prussia said nothing, only continuing to hold Germany until he eventually wiggled out of his grasp, still rubbing the remaining tears away.
"I stink." He suddenly said, laughing lightly. "No wonder they thought I was drunk. I smell like an entire brewery that fell into a latrine."
"Don't listen to them, they're never fucking sober." he joked stepping closer. Upon actually taking a whiff however- "Oh, God, Jesus, mother of God! What the fuck is that?! Yeah, get the fuck into the bathroom. Jesus. I'll get you new clothes. What the fuck."
